


The Flower Sickness

by Misericordemika



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Drabble, I have no idea, It's late, M/M, i wanted to write something
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-14
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-20 10:26:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6002388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Misericordemika/pseuds/Misericordemika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>하나하키병 (Hanahaki Byeong), 花吐き病 (Hanahaki Byou), or 花吐病(Huatu Bing): n. A disease of the human system that manifests as the coughing up of flowers; it is aggravated by severe one-sided love. Its infection route is through direct contact with vomited flowers. The only cure is a kiss - a fulfillment of love.</p><p>OR: a Valentine's Day prompt (flowers) that didn't turn out very Valentine-sque at all. Drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Flower Sickness

**Author's Note:**

> This is a common trope that I’ve been seeing in Chinese (and other Asian) fandoms, and I decided it’s time we have it more here in English. =D.
> 
> The name of the trope literally means: “Sickness that causes one to spit flowers.”
> 
> This is for #jaydickweek Valentine’s event: Day 2 - Flowers. I have decided to go with only the keyword “flowers” instead of the entire detailed prompt.

Jason had grown apart from him, an embodiment of fury, bitter and far.

The days dragged on as cruel as the dark hours of Blüdhaven ’s rain-laden nights, for Jason had ceased his phantom visits, had withdrew the monthly instances when he would announce himself uninvited, when he would tread mud upon Dick’s carpets with an assured smirk, a stolen flower between his teeth. 

It had been several torturous months since Dick had been robbed of Jason’s presence, of his calloused touch and roughened visage, wherein softness would only brighten when hidden in the dark secrecy of Dick’s bed. 

And he would leave by morning in silence, to continue his rampage of vengeance and murder and hate. However, the naked heat of him would linger in between Dick’s bedsheets, mixed with the thick fragrance of flowers; therein Dick would burrow himself after difficult nights, and suspend in the quietness of his duties as Nightwing until the very first day of the coming month. 

But there were no more months. 

The pink siris Jason had smuggled all the way from the treasured premises of a Chinese tycoon withered and died. But its parasite remained. 

The sickness descended without warning, a shadow gliding between the dankness of winter. 

When an orchid bloomed from his mouth, Barbara thought he’d learned a new circus trick. Wally thought of the fairytale _Diamonds and Toads_. 

Then came the essence of artemisia, the golden petals falling from his lips like flakes of gold. Bruce had him quarantined to his old bedroom at the Wayne Mansion.

He grew weak. Cassandra became showered in callas when she rushed to catch his ailing body. 

Amaryllis erupted in violent pinks as Tim nailed down the condition.

The Flower Sickness. An epidemic that had been sweeping across Asia. The infected would continuously throw up flowers in full bloom, their bodies a source of nourishment. Without a cure, they’d eventually die in a casket of their own making, a funeral progression of flowers. All those who had come into contact with the flowers would become infected as well.

Trillium opened in perfect trinity as his friends and family were warned.

The only cure was a kiss from the one the infected pines for, the one he _loves_.

He waited, lucent and silvern and _dying_ under the embrace of black dahlias.

_Jason, come home._


End file.
